The Dream she Wished she Never had
by SharperImage
Summary: Fear of the future, fear for the present. Jote finds that even in death there will be life. Renewal in destruction, and happiness in sadness. T for possible sadness


The Dream she Wished she Never had

Jote looked about the village, it was withered and dying. She couldn't make out the burble of a trickling stream or a fountain, and the chirps of the birds were no more. Dead leaves rustled in a listless wind that held no balminess. The noise grated into her ears; it was the sound of death. Leaves detached themselves from the trees, and floated down upon the stagnant air. Jote watched as one in particular, landed before her on the walkway.

She reached out to it mourning the life that was lost. And as she touched it, she heard a pitiful wail. The leaf crumbled to ash, and she cringed away, as if it blazed like the sun. Jote looked about, straining her ears for the sounds of others, but nothing came to her. She was alone with the dying of the trees, and hung her head in despair; hoping to hear a voice, something to tell her that she wasn't alone. She felt something from the Wood then, a weak effort of comfort; but alas.

It was dying, the spirits could do little, and Jote felt like crying. The Viera were no more; once this was a village teeming with life, its people and their home content. But soon they left, abandoning and destroying what had loved them dearly, choosing to waste away and be forgotten by time. And now they were wringing the same fate upon their home. No longer did the green leaves blow in the trees, or the silence of contentment prevail. Now it was filled with noises of mechanical devices, machines created to destroy. Jote shivered at the thought of them. Long it had been since the last young Viera stood proudly before her, in the embrace of the Wood.

She didn't look up as she heard a metallic clanging, she was beyond caring. The Wood was dying, and so was she. It would make little difference to resist; death would prevail in the end. She heard the feet of armed Humes approaching her small sanctuary, and looked listlessly up to where the men stood. They were covered from head to toe in metal, and smelled of iron and sweat. She stared them in the eyes, waiting for them to come to her.

The soldiers came, slowly and sluggishly, but she didn't care to move an inch out of their way. Their cautious advance lost its wariness as they realized she wasn't going to move, and soon, they walked like they owned the world. The Humes stopped, motioning her to stand. Jote sat there; she didn't have the will to make herself stand. The soldiers expressed sighs of contempt for her, and grabbed her arms; yanking the Viera upwards.

Jote's legs crumbled beneath her as she stood, the soldiers strained to keep her standing, but she dragged them down. She felt no fear of them; she felt nothing. She lay flat on the walkway, staring at the sky above. Wondering if it had ever been such a brilliant shade of blue before.

The Wood expended its strength, and one last whisper touched her ears. A twitch ran down and through her body as she heard its words. Jote found the will to turn her head to the side, and look at what it had told her too.

Her eyes befell the dark purple leaves of a beautiful flower, and they widened in sadness to look upon the last piece of life in the Wood. It was a Deathflower; her flower. Her spirit cried for it, wanting to take the taste of death and join the spirits above. Jote felt tears flow softly down her cheeks; she would never be able to join them, she would forever be bound to die of the earth; never blessed to dwell with her kin. She had failed in keeping the Viera, and now she could never go on. This made her far sadder than anything yet, but as the soldiers hauled her to her feet once more, Jote stopped her weeping.

One small, yet ever so precious petal broke away from the flower, floating in the air. She pulled an arm free from one soldier and reached out. The petal landed upon her outstretched palm, and she sighed in relief, clutching the petal to her breast. The soldiers began pulling her back, subduing her, but not before Jote had taken a small bite of the petal. She sighed happy for the first time in so long, and fell to her knees. The soldiers rushed to pull her up, but realized that the beautiful Viera was no longer breathing. Jote smiled and the last word uttered upon her frozen lips was barely audible to the Humes.

"No more death."

The men looked around; the large forest before them was changing, greening slowly and coming back to life. They stared in wonder, but were disappointed to see that the life faded from the leaves as soon as it came. But the soldiers didn't see what the Viera had seen; A bright purple flower died, and beneath where its petals had fallen, was a patch of green.

Jote opened her eyes, and saw the green and gold rays of sunlight shining through the trees; she sighed.


End file.
